GTA Vice City: 2006
by Eric Jordan
Summary: After leaving a life he hated, Richard Moore reluctantly returns to his life of crime to take over Vice City.
1. Chapter 1

Vice City: 2006

Eager to walk after the long flight from San Andreas to Vice City, Richard Moore stepped down the escalator of Escobar International Airport, squinting his eyes from the glare of Florida's hot sun. He slowly made his way through the crowded airport to the conveyor belt where his luggage could be. He stood there for a minute or two looking for his luggage.

_Not to worry,_ he thought._ My bag will be here soon_.

He began to grow impatient. His friend, Eric Starch, was going to pick him up in less than 5 minutes. Him and Eric began to grow distant throughout the years because Eric moved to Vice City while Richard stayed in San Andreas. Both of them hated San Andreas. Ever since Grove Street took over everything, the ordinary people were pretty much screwed. They had no freedom. If Sean or Carl wanted you to do something, you'd do it or you'd be a corpse. Both Richard and Eric were desirable to Carl because they had experience with crime. Both of them were dreamers except Eric could live out his dreams and he finally bailed on San Andreas and moved to Vice. He also promised to get Richard a ticket so both of them could leave that dump they used to call home. Right before they left, he convinced Richard to get back at Grove Street with him. They both got into a car and did a drive-by across Grove Street. Richard shot and killed one of the gangsters called "Ryder". Soon the rest of the grove street gang was on their tail. Realizing he was into deep, Eric kicked Richard out of the car and left him for dead while he got on a plane and left for Paradise: Vice City. Carl and Sean nearly killed Richard until they had their way with him and turned him into San Andreas' corrupt police.

_Forget it. I don't have time to wait for my bag. It only has a few clothes. As long as I have my cash and iPod, I'm happy, _He thought to himself again. He turned away from the conveyor belt and began to walk toward the door. He walked past two security guards with the words "P.I.G.S" on their backs beating a man senseless and an old homeless man sleeping on a bench that had a sign that said, "the end is near".

While focusing on all of the events going on around him, his focus got shoved in front of him when a fist connected to his face, knocking him to the ground.

"Watch where you're going, you piece of crap!" said the fat Cuban in a Hawaiian shirt man who punched him.

" I saw you a mile away cause you're kind of hard to miss, fat ass" Richard snapped back

"Eh, We got a wise guy here, Andres" the man chuckled to a thin man in the same shirt next to him.

"Looks like it, amigo. Dominic, maybe you should tell him what we do with wise guys," said the man known as Andres.

"Maybe you're right. Well, smart ass, if you're a wise guy, you gonna end up at a funeral home" said Dominic

"Really? I think it'd be kind of tacky to show up at your funerals after I killed you both," Richard said with a grin appearing on his face, starting to get up.

The Cuban men began to laugh as Dominic began to pull out a gun. Acting quickly, Richard punched Andres and proceeded to tackle Dominic, knocking him to the ground and stealing his gun. Richard got up and shot Andres in the chest, killing him. He then kicked Dominic in the face. Dominic couldn't physically get up, so Richard continued to beat on Dominic. After Dominic's face was covered in blood and his nose was broken, Richard said, "Hey Dominic?"

"Yeah?" he said, spitting blood

"I'm gonna need the address to funeral home, bitch." Richard said as he pulled the trigger of the gun, stealing Dominic's life.

Richard soon felt frustrated. He wasn't planning on returning to his life of crime. He just planned on buying a bike and ride around all day and meeting girls. Plans change. After grieving over his actions he felt a barrel of a pistol touching the side of his head. Richard slowly turned his head to see a man with shaggy brown hair with a faded beard wearing an orange tee-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and a classic pair on converse. He smiled as he said "Welcome to Vice City"


	2. Chapter 2

Richard slowly smiled as he pulled a gun to the man's rib cage, barely even moving. Both the men stood there silent for a couple seconds. The man put the gun down from Richard's head and hugged Richard.

"Good to see you to, Eric" Richard said hugging Eric back.

"You know me, I've always had extravagant greetings" He said, putting his gun away, "Now let's get out of here before the pigs decide to start interrogating us with bullets in our skulls"

Eric hopped over the metal bars surrounding the metal detector so he wouldn't have to go through, followed by Richard doing the same. Eric entered a black infurnus in the passenger seat saying, "You wanna drive?" to Richard.

"Only if you're not planning to do any drive-bys"

"Shit, San Andreas got you paranoid" Eric laughed

"You'd be paranoid too if your friend kicked you out of a moving car and into the arms of armed thugs and thrown into prison for 4 years. 4 years, man. I'm not getting those back, and-"

"Shut the fuck up, Richy. Don't bring that up. It was for the best. You're lucky they didn't kill you. Water under the bridge."

"Yeah. Water under the bridge…" Richard said as he got into the car. He quickly pulled out of the parking lot, and began driving.

"So, Eric, how can you afford such a nice ride?" Richard asked.

"It ain't mine. I jacked it about an hour ago. So please, don't let the law or my fears of damaging a car restrict you from having a good time. Go all out." He replied.

"You sure?"

"Positive." He said as he turned on Vrock and turned the volume up to full blast. With a sly grin on his face, Richard began to apply pressure to the gas pedal as a sped around a few cars. Richard was about to turn to a road in Little Havana, but Eric quickly reached on the wheel to make him go straight.

"Never turn there when I'm in the car" Eric said.

"Why? Some pricks giving you a hard time?"

"No. I'm giving them a hard time. And they will kill me if they get the chance, and I don't wanna give them that chance. Keep going straight and turn onto the main road and head towards the downtown area and I'll explain."

Before Richard could protest, Richard was violently shoved into the steering wheel while Eric flew out of the dashboard due to a vicious rear end by a Cuban Hermes. Richard slowly lifted his head from the steering wheel to see blood on his steering wheel. He turned around to see the Hermes front end was totaled and the Cubans were getting out with guns in their hands and joking around with each other about how pathetic the shaking, bleeding Eric looked. Should Richard play dead and let Eric be killed or should he be a man and step out of the car and try to take on the Cuban bastards with only his pistol and bare hands? Richard listened a little bit closer to understand little Spanish he knew. He only knew "Should we kill him?" and "no." and "the boss wants him". That was good enough for Richard. One of the Cubans stopped a car and shot the driver and took him out and he got in the drivers seat while the rest of the Cubans piled Eric into the back as the driver took off.

"What should we do with this other dickhead?" One of the remaining Cubans asked the other.

"Let him die like the pig he is," he replied.

Thinking quickly, Richard rolled out of the car and fired his pistol into one of their heads. The other one took of yelling "Shit! Shit!"

Richard, luckily, being faster than the Cuban tackled him to the ground and punched him yelling, "Where are you taking my friend?" and only replied to Spanish.

"Sorry, I don't speak illegal immigrant, in English, you stupid prick!" he yelled again slamming his head against the pavement.

"In- In el Fudge… Packing Corporation about a block… from here. Por favor, don't kill me." He said gasping for air. Richard slowly got off him thinking about how many times his life has been spared in San Andreas. Before he left, he grabbed the Cuban's other pistol and money and began jogging around looking for a place called Fudge Packing Corporation. After about a minute or two of searching in Little Havana, He saw the small abandoned warehouse with a faded sign the said "Fudge Packing Corporation".

Richard grabbed the sliding door and slid it open to about 5 or 6 Cubans circled around Eric, mocking him. Eric lifted one of his pistols and shot at one of the Cubans and having the bullet hit him in the side of the neck. The man screamed which made the other Cubans aware Richard was there. Richard dived behind a crate, firing whenever he saw an opportunity. Richard had shot at least 3 of them when suddenly he felt a painful stinging sensation in his leg. He recognized the feeling before. He had been shot in the leg!

Out of nowhere, a heavy Cuban voice said, "Stop! No more blood needs to be shed. You, behind the crate, come here."

Richard painfully clutched onto his leg as he limped into the dim light to face a large Cuban man with slick black hair and a mustache. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Richard Moore."

"Me llamo Umberto Robina." He replied as he held out a hand but with Richard ignoring it. "Well, Ricardo, you sure have cajones for coming here. Now what do you want?"

"My friend."

"You can keep him," he replied as he pushed Eric off the chair, "I just wanted to whip him into line in order to persuade him not to mess with my amigos. Listen man, I think you have cajones, but I'm not sure. Come by Café Robina if you want to prove you do."

"Thanks." Richard replied as he tossed Eric's arm around his shoulder as he limped towards a parked car.

What to look forward to in future chapters

Claude Speed (he can talk too!), Tommy Vercetti, Kent Paul, Vice City gangs and original gang with massive wars.


	3. Chapter 3

After much struggle of getting Eric into a car and to the hospital, Richard found himself driving along the downtown area to grow familiar with his new home. Eric had gotten him a small apartment for rent in Vice Point before Richard got there. Richard often drove by the sports arena to find out how to participate in the races they have there. He was upset to find that he had to pay a fee to enter, and he really didn't have any cash because of expensive gas prices, rent, and the occasional purchases of guns. He decided to finally go to Café Robina to see if Umberto can get him some cash. Richard was a reckless driver and took out any cop who was dumb enough to try to pull him over which was the case when Richard attempted to make a u-turn at an intersection at busted the taillight of a cop car while turning. Richard saw the bright flashing crimson and blue lights of the car and he knew he couldn't outrun the cop so he pulled over aside the Vrock station. He sighed as he got a pistol out of his glove box and waited for the cop to angrily approach his car and lecture him

"It's against the law to drive when your blind, you moron" The cop spat putting and emphasis on the "mo" in moron with a deep southern accent. "And you busted my taillight. Usually, that'd cost you a ticket and an ass-beating, but since I'm feeling extra generous, I'll let it slide with just a ticket and some extra cash"

"Of course officer, my mistake." Richard replied as he handed all of his money to the cop, which wasn't a lot.

"I bet you won't be makin' that mistake again. Damn ingrates with no respect for us authority figures…" The cop trailed off as he began scribbling out a ticket.

"I bet you won't be makin' that mistake again," Richard mocked back in the same southern accent.

"What was that, boy" The cop said began to take out his nightstick. But before the cop could even get a firm grip on the stick, Richard put the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger twice. Before the cop fell all the way down, Richard snatched his cash.

"Damn ingrate," he mocked in a southern accent again as he drove off. Richard turned into Little Havana and looked around him to see some armed Cubans looking at him mischievously. Richard pushed the pedal a little faster and drove for about a minute and parked in front of Café Robina.

Richard opened the door to a loud commotion of Spanish speaking people. He saw Umberto standing on top of a table yelling a sermon at the top of his lungs to his Cuban soldiers in front of him who tossed there fists up and chanted back to him. Richard stepped aside as the Cubans ran out of the diner and got into Cuban Hermes as sped off. Umberto hopped off the table and seemed out of breath from yelling.

"You, Ricardo. It's going down, amigo" Umberto said to Richard just noticing he was there was he pushed his slick, greasy hair back.

"What's going down?" Richard asked slightly confused.

"The damn Vercetti Gang. I was down with Tommy, and the dick still wants me to pay protection? I'll kill him and his gang with my bare hands," He yelled and he spoke some Spanish and continued, "You got cajones? You're coming with me."

"Look, Umberto, I just need cash."

"You plannin' to rob me or something?"

"Uh… well… No, but-"

"Get in the car, back us up, and I'll give you some major dinero."

Richard and Umberto walked quickly out of the diner, them and two other Cubans piled into a Cuban Hermes, and sped off towards Starfish Island. Richard watched the Cubans load semi-automatic guns and talking to each other in Spanish.

"I was a friend to him. Why the hell would he be asking us for cash? He's the richest fucker in this dump of a city. He never demanded cash before, and now is the worst time to demand it, ese. With the war with the Haitians and all the shit your friend, Eric, has been giving us. It costs a lot of cash." Umberto told Richard.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I told him to lay off." Richard replied scratching his head.

"Are you workin' for him and planning to stab us in the back?"

"I'm working for money. To the highest bidder."

"Do you know his plans?"

"I don't know shit,"

"Well, find out, tell us, and I'll give you all the cash you want, amigo."

"Are you gonna kill him?"

"That depends on how much shit he's gonna give us in the future. Do you care?"

"That depends on how much shit he's gonna give me in the future."

Umberto laughed and quickly turned serious again as they turned into Starfish Island. Richard took out the two pistols he had with him.

"Yo, that's all you're strappin'?" one of the Cubans asked Richard.

"That's all I'm gonna need." Richard replied calmly.

The Cuban laughed and replied "We'll see."

The driver pushed the gas more and turned into Vercetti Estate and mauled over 3 men with the same shirts as Dominic and Andres, who Richard took out when he first got in Vice City. The driver turned towards the stairs and began to go up them. Many of the Cubans started swearing due to the constant violent bumps they face. When they found themselves on level ground, the driver laughed and drove straight through the door and some wall of Vercetti Estate, running over at least 4 more men.

Once the car came to a stop, Umberto climbed over Richard and one of the Cubans and opened the door and rolled out and slowly got up. Prepared to back Umberto up, Richard also got out of the car, confused why the other Cubans stayed in.

Richard also noticed that the other cars that left the café were nowhere near Vercetti Estate. Richard slowly took in his surroundings and realized that they were surrounded by at least 15 men in red patterned Hawaiian shirts aiming guns at them. Richard turned his head over shoulder and saw that the Cubans were pulling out of the rubble, and were about to drive away.

Apparently, Umberto noticed that they were driving away too, and he turned around and started firing at their car and yelling at them in Spanish. Richard turned forward again extremely confused and saw that one of them men was pumping a shotgun and about to fire at them. Richard quickly dived backwards and began firing at the man who fell down dead. That was a signal for the other men to open fire. Richard continued firing and shot 4 of them. Umberto and Richard swiftly rolled outside of the house and rolled to the side, and leaned in to shoot whenever they got a chance. Richard leaned into fire and when he pulled the trigger, but instead of the sound of gunfire, he only heard a small click. He leaned back towards the wall.

"Fuck! Umberto, I'm out!" Richard yelled to Umberto, whose gun almost instantly after Richard said that also clicked.

"Me too. Toss your guns. We have to surrender, amigo" He replied who had his arm to his bicep because he was shot.

Richard nodded, and they tossed their guns towards the men. Once they stopped firing, they stepping into the building and over the rubble and around a few bodies. They looked up to the staircase and saw a man looking about 50 with a green Hawaiian patterned shirt and faded blue jeans.

"Umberto. To what do I owe the pleasure of you coming into my house, driving through the door, and killing 9 of my men?" The man asked calmly

"Tommy Vercetti, you shit. I ain't paying no protection!" Umberto yelled pointing at him.

"Protection?" Tommy repeated, "Umberto, I have never asked you for protection."

"Then why'd I get a letter from Dominic of the Vercetti gang yesterday demanding protection payment?"

"Dominic was shot and killed almost a week ago at the airport. And I think you have your errand boy, Richard Moore, next to you to thank for that"

"How do you know who I am?" Richard asked

"Kid, I own this city. I know everything from when there's a new rat in the sewers and when there's a new punk in town trying to take over" Tommy replied

"I'm not trying to take over anything"

"Oh really? Because you're little friend, Eric, called me and told me that you and him were taking over. If that's the case, bring it. I get ten punks and gangs coming in and trying to take me out a month. Like a fly in the web. And to me, you two are just another fly,"

"Like I said, I don't care about this city. All I care about money and getting my own slice"

"You want your slice? Come work for me then."

"I don't want to be in your shitty ass gang"

"You don't have to be in my gang, think of it as… a big step of the ladder of cash"

"So you're telling me you don't want to protection?" Umberto asked.

"That's correct"

Easily convinced, Umberto replied, "Ok, sorry about everything, man."

"Just don't do it again. Oh and Richard," Tommy said

Richard looked back at Tommy and he smiled "I'll be giving you a call"

……….……….…………..

Back at Richard's apartment, he was eating potato chips and had the TV on. He had a nice wad of cash on his desk. He seemed satisfied with all he had accomplished today. Richard's phone rang and he picked it up after the second ring.

"Hello?" Richard asked only to be responded by hysterical laughter.

"Dude, you watchin' the news?" the person said

"Eric?"

"No, it's Santa Clause. Turn on the news"

Richard pressed the channel button a few times and saw a helicopter view of firemen putting out a fire.

"The Cubans sleep in tragedy tonight as long time Cuban restaurant, Café Robina, burned to the ground. Long time suspected Cuban gang leader, Umberto Robina, was in the café of its fiery demise." The anchorwoman said.

Richard was shocked at what he saw on the TV. Umberto was dead. He had just been with him an hour earlier. The phone in his hand erupted with muffled laughter. He put the phone to his ear again.

"Dude, that was all me. I took over the Cubans; they're practically eating out of my ass. I wrote some fake letter to Umberto telling him that Tommy Vercetti demanded protection. Him and some other Joe-shmo went there and started a miniature war. But Umberto wasn't dead, so I torched Café Robina to the ground with him in it. It's so great. Me and You and Claude are taking over."

"Who?" Richard asked still overwhelmed of all he was learning

"Claude Speed. You'll meet him tomorrow. This town is ours!" He said with a laugh. Richard hung up his phone.

_Rest in Peace Umberto Robina_ Richard thought.


End file.
